


Verschlimmbessern

by MissNaya



Series: Blurry (Extended) [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Angst and Porn, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Face-Sitting, False Identity, Fingerfucking, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Incest Play, M/M, Masochism, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Jason is pulled off of active duty when Bruce becomes concerned for his mental health. Dick temporarily takes up the Red Hood mantle in his place, in an attempt to finish what he started. It doesn't take long for him to get in over his head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so! this comes from an anon prompt on my [tumblr,](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/) about my jayroman fic Blurry:
> 
>  
> 
> _So Bruce hides Jason away from Black Mask because he's getting concerned. But Red Hood still needs to be visible so maybe he sends Dick out in his costume. Maybe Roman knows right away and decides to mess with him/punish him while pretending that he thinks he's Jason. Or maybe he does think it him and he's angry that the bat would try to take his boy and acts possessive. Either Dick gets protective of his baby bro or his own sub switch gets accidentally triggered_
> 
>  
> 
> and I really loved the idea, but didn't want to rush through Blurry to make it to this part, and I still wanted room for Blurry's plot to develop naturally. my solution? post this as a standalone! I think I might do more of these kinda-sorta-maybe-canon things set in the same universes as my existing fics. hopefully it won't get too confusing... I just really like taking 'verses in all different directions! let me know what you think!

Even with padding under his armor and inserts in his shoes to give him a few more inches of height, Dick doesn’t feel like he can pass for Jason. He and Bruce both know this ruse won’t last for long. But with Jason in such a compromised place mentally, someone needs to finish what he started. He tells himself he won’t be long; all he needs to do is keep his distance for a little while and play along well enough to put together the final pieces of the puzzle Jason started on so long ago.

And he really is almost there. He’s gathered information about a shipment heading Gotham’s way, something big and expensive and very, very dangerous. The details are still a bit sketchy, but he figures it won’t take much to weasel them out of Black Mask, as long as he’s crafty enough. After all, he and Jason have apparently had a very… close relationship.

He knows he can’t possibly feign that sort of affection. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t look enough like Jason under the outfit to be able to pull it off. But he should be able to get  _ something _ useful without having to compromise his position too much.

...That’s what he told himself, the whole way up the elevator to Black Mask’s penthouse. But now, staring him down — arms crossed over his chest in that cool, unaffected way Jason’s perfected — he feels somehow less certain. He thinks it has to do with the unreadable expression of that mask.

“Jason, my boy,” Black Mask says, and already, Dick can feel his skin start to crawl. “Come, have a drink with me.”

“Think I’ll pass,” Dick says. He prays the voice scrambler in his hood doesn’t short out. “I wanna talk business.”

“My, so serious.” Black Mask closes the distance between them, laying an arm across his shoulders. It’s affectionate; almost  _ parental, _ Dick thinks. “I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

“Actually,” Dick says, “it’s pretty urgent.”

“Oh?”

Dick steels himself inwardly, going over everything he knows about Jason and Black Mask’s relationship (which, for better or for worse, isn’t much beyond the basics). He allows himself to relax a bit, still tense around the edges, like a lover trying to carefully approach a touchy subject.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the weapon?” he asks. “Don’t try to deny it; I know you’ve been keeping it a secret from me.”

Black Masks squeezes his shoulder for a second, and Dick fears the worst. But then he sighs and lets him go, stalking further into the penthouse.

“My, my, my. Sharp one, aren’t you? That’s okay. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he says. He walks over to an ornate table with only two chairs, one on each end, and pulls one out. “Please, sit. Let’s talk this through.”

Dick tries to think of how Jason would react, and settles on the stubborn approach. “We can talk like this.”

The subtle squeak of leather crackles through the air as Black Mask’s gloved hands tighten on the back of the chair.

“Jason,” he says, measured and careful. “If you want answers, I’d suggest you listen. It’s common courtesy.”

Dick doesn’t feel like he can argue with that tone. After a moment’s hesitation, he crosses the room and sits down.

“So,” Black Mask sighs. “How did you find out?”

“Think I’ll keep that to myself.”

“I certainly hope you didn’t fuck it out of someone,” Black Mask says, casual and abrupt and far too haughty. “I’d hate to have a repeat of the last incident.”

Dick feels his stomach rise up into his throat at the implication. He wants to press, but forces himself to focus on the task at hand.

“That what you think of me?” he asks, voice trembling with barely-concealed anger. “Think I got nothing between the ears, is that it?”

“Oh, Jason, calm down,” Black Mask says, in a tone that threatens to rot Dick’s teeth out of his mouth. “I was only joking. You know I respect your intelligence.”

When Black Mask goes to pat him on the head, Dick snatches his wrist in a steely grip. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.” He holds firm even when Black Mask tries to pull away. “When’s this shipment gonna arrive? Were you even gonna tell me when it came in?”

“Of course I was going to,” Black Mask says. “But I’d suggest you let me go before I change my mind about that.”

Reluctantly, Dick does.

Black Mask adjusts his sleeve. “I know you’re upset, but that’s really no way to treat your  _ father, _ is it?”

Dick bites down on his anger. He knows about the sort of relationship Jason and Black Mask had, knows it dipped into  _ that _ territory. Though Bruce wouldn’t admit it, Dick knows it’s one of the big reasons he decided to intervene. It hits close to home. That sort of power dynamic is too intimate, too worrisome. But it’s one that Jason, for whatever reason, had been eager to cling to.

Hopefully, the slow, shaking breath he takes can be misconstrued as something other than anger, something Dick doesn’t want to dwell on. Much as he wants to, he can’t tell Black Mask where to shove his daddy issues, not yet.

“Guess it’s not,” he says. “But you’ve gotta understand why I’m angry. I mean, I thought I was your— I thought we… had something.” He gulps. “That I… meant more to you. Than the rest of them.”

“ _ Jason, _ ” Black Mask says, in that same doting voice that can’t be genuine. His hands creep down to Dick’s shoulders to give them a comforting squeeze, and Dick hopes against hope that he won’t notice the extra padding filling out bulk he doesn’t have. “You do. You know you do. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“Which is when?” Dick asks, forcing a sourness into his tone that he hopes sounds adequately Jason. “Right before it gets here?”

“If need be, yes.”

“Well, I know now,” Dick says. “So you might as well tell me.”

“Is that all you’re worried about? Forget the shipment,” Black Mask says, rounding on him. “I think we have more important things to talk about. You have some trust issues I believe I could assuage.”

Dick frowns under the hood, trying to pick his words carefully. He needs to find out when the weapon’s due to arrive before things go too far — or worse, before it gets to Gotham — but he needs to keep things sounding natural, too. If he pushes too hard, he could ruin the entire mission.

“I’ll trust you,” he says, “when you tell me what you’ve been keeping from me.”

“Understandable,” Black Mask says. He reaches up to trail his knuckles over the cheek of Dick’s hood. “But I think you’re forgetting something crucial.”

“Which is…?”

“That you don’t make the rules.” Black Mask snatches up his chin, other hand on the arm of the chair. Impossibly, Dick feels small. “I’m still a bit  _ hurt _ that you’d grab me like that, you know. I do hope you haven’t suddenly forgotten your place.”

“...Of course not,” Dick says, after a pause that he hopes didn’t last too long. “But—”

“No buts.” Black Mask presses a finger to where his mouth would be under the smooth expanse of the hood. “Don’t you think that a father should be allowed to touch his dearest son whenever he likes?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Dick says too quickly, and regrets it as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He doesn’t know how uppity Jason likes to play things, but from the way Black Mask stills, he has a feeling he got it wrong.

“No? You don’t?” Black Mask asks with a tilt of his head. He shoves Dick back against the chair with the hand on his hood, then drags that hand down over his chest, his stomach. “You don’t like how daddy touches you?”

Dick’s head spins so badly he fears he might fall out of the chair. He’s disgusted on a visceral level, but that tone is so gentle, so velvet-thick, that, combined with the touch, it makes him almost understand how Jason could get sucked in by it.

He grabs Black Mask’s wrist again before he has a chance to think about it. By the time he does, he knows that was the absolute worst thing he could have done.

“I,” he gapes, trying and failing to find the words to bring this whole thing back on course. “I, uh…”

“What?” Black Mask asks, twisting his wrist to grab Dick’s in turn. “Have I been too gentle with you?  _ Poor boy, _ I know you need a firm hand sometimes…”

Then he yanks Dick up by his arm, and Dick’s too stunned and conflicted to resist. When he’s bent face-first over the table, silverware clattering to the floor from the force of it, his heart drops to his feet. At first, he fears the worst, that he’ll have a gun trained on his head in seconds, but all Black Mask does is smooth a heavy hand down his spine.

“How about this,” he starts, his voice a steady purr that makes Dick’s pulse quicken against his will. “You show me that you’re properly contrite, and I’ll tell you everything.”

It’s not a question.

Dick can feel himself sweating under the hood already, and his mind works overtime to try and think of a way out of this that won’t ruin everything. But Black Mask’s stroking his lower back with soothing little circles, and the heat pooling in his belly is starting to interfere with his thought process. He wonders how often Jason found himself in this exact situation, then pushes the thought away before it makes him angry.

“H-how do you want me…” He stops. Licks his lips. “...to do that?”

Black Mask leans over his back, stilling his hand on Dick’s hip. “I’d like to hear your ideas first.”

The sound of his voice makes Dick’s toes curl in his boots. At once, he tells himself to stay detached and focus on the mission, and to let his body react to sell the impression. Trying to do both simultaneously leaves his head swimming. And, apart from that, he’s not sure what to say. He inwardly curses Bruce for not telling him more about Jason’s behavior around Black Mask, then curses himself for letting things get this far. In the end, he decides to try for neutral and inquisitive, and adjust his act based on Black Mask’s reactions.

“I-isn’t… Isn’t the parent supposed to decide on the punishment?” he asks. He hopes it’s the right answer, letting Black Mask have all the power.

Instead, he just chuckles. Dick can barely see him shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

“ _ Very _ polite of you, but I’d like to hear you say it,” he says. “Go on. What do you think you deserve?”

Great. Dick has no idea what level of “punishment” they usually escalate to, nor what Jason sounds like in the bedroom. But, given his position and the proximity of Black Mask’s hand to his ass, he feels like he can make an educated guess about at least one half of the equation.

“A— A spanking.” Even that much feels impossibly dirty in this situation. He buries his head in his arms. “I want you to spank me, Roman.”

“Roman?”

Dick slowly balls his hands into fists and lets out a breath. “...Daddy.”

Black Mask chuckles again, that feather-light sound somehow weighing down on Dick’s back like a ton of bricks. “So shy tonight. Let’s hope we can loosen up that pretty little tongue of yours. Now, count.”

Dick barely has time to choke out a “What?” before Black Mask’s hand comes down on his backside. He catches himself at the last moment and turns it into a “One,” hoping this is how he’s supposed to do it.

It must be, because Black Mask strikes him again, and again, and it doesn’t hurt, but each new smack is a shock. He hasn’t been spanked since… well, since he was a kid, dangling off Bruce’s chandeliers. He gasps out a “Three—  _ Daddy— _ ” before he can stop himself, and immediately feels bile rising in his throat.

“There’s my good boy,” Black Mask coos, stroking down the side of his neck with his free hand. “Tell daddy how many you want.”

For reasons he doesn’t care to dwell on, Dick says, “Just—  _ More. _ ”

Black Mask is all too happy to oblige. Dick isn’t sure if he gets rougher as time goes on or if it just starts to hurt more even through his clothes, but soon enough, he’s breathing out his numbers on the tail end of a bunch of yelps. When he gets to twenty, a burst of pent-up energy bubbles up out of him in the form of an ugly sob. Black Mask doesn’t even hesitate before smacking him again, but Dick is too out of it to keep counting. He’s never felt anything quite like this before, never let a lover do this to him, and it’s shameful and it hurts and, and, and—

“At your limit already?” Black Mask asks, rubbing circles into his aching bottom. “Don’t tell me this is the most you’re willing to do for me...”

“Whuh— What more do you  _ want? _ ” Dick snaps, frustrated that he can’t so much as wipe his eyes like this. “How long do you expect me to keep this up?”

“At least a little while longer.” Black Mask is infuriatingly calm, doesn’t even  _ pretend _ to care, and Dick doesn’t understand why Jason would ever put up with that. “ _ You _ were the one who asked for more, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t— I mean…”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, trying not to let his feelings about Jason get in the way. He’s so close to getting the info he needs, so damned  _ close; _ he can’t waste this opportunity. He just needs to push himself a little more. He’s been through worse than a spanking, right? And if he blows this now, all that time Jason spent with Black Mask will be for nothing. That, more than anything, he can’t abide.

“I mean… It hurts, daddy.” He tries his best to sound vulnerable in that cutesy way guys go wild for. “W-wasn’t I good enough…? Please, I’m really sorry…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Black Mask coos. “It’s supposed to hurt. That’s how I know you’re not lying when you apologize.”

At that moment, Dick accepts he can’t win. He doesn’t think it would be “in character” of him to press the point now, anyway. He steels himself and shifts his stance a little bit, settling his head back into his arms.

“...Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll keep going. I— I’m sorry.”

“Show,” Black Mask says, “don’t tell.”

When he starts up again, it doesn’t hurt quite as much, but it leaves the same sort of churning, conflicted feeling in Dick’s gut. He stutters out his numbers, trying to focus on anything but the way this makes him feel. But it’s hard when he has to keep track, has to be present for every single blow Black Mask lands on him, and now that he thinks about it, he’s sure that’s intentional. He takes deep breaths through the rest of the twenties, then shudders through the thirties, all the while kept in his head just enough that he can never truly distract himself from what’s happening.

By the time they hit fifty, Dick realizes his legs are shaking. He can’t believe Black Mask has gone on this long, figures his hand must ache by now, but if he’s feeling it at all, he doesn’t show it. What’s more alarming, though, is the persistent way Dick’s cock strains in his pants. He knows he has a bit of a masochistic streak — figures it comes with being a vigilante — but he can’t believe he’s hard in a situation like this. He shouldn’t be  _ getting off _ on this, not here, not with the man who caused his little brother so much pain.

But Black Mask’s hand comes down again, and he calls out the next number on the end of a breathy groan. He doesn’t even hear himself say it; all he can think about is how much he wants this to  _ end, _ how he feels like he’ll explode if they go on any longer, and how very, very disappointed Bruce would be if he could see them right now.

“—Oh my god, oh my god,” he sobs, whole body slick with sweat under his costume. He thinks they might be on seventy, but it’s hard to think clearly. “Please, please,  _ please, _ I can’t do it any more, I can’t, I can’t—”

“Shh, shh…” To his surprise, Black Mask leans down and pulls him to his chest with one strong arm. “You’ve done so well, pretty boy. Daddy’s going to give you a reward, okay?”

Dick’s thoughts are scattered in a way he isn’t accustomed to. He’s used to getting flustered during sex, knows he’s the type to occasionally get lost in sensation, but he never dreamed something like this could get him so delirious. So, while he faintly tries to pull himself back into some semblance of a thoughtful, calculating human being, he doesn’t notice Black Mask undoing his belt and pants until one hand slips down the back of them.

“No,” he says instantly, reaching down to grab his wrist a third time. And he knows how bad a move it is, but there’s no way he can keep up this charade if Black Mask so much as grabs him. He and Jason aren’t  _ that _ similar. “No, no, not tonight, okay? Please—”

But then Black Mask’s slicked-up fingers slide over his hole, and he shudders, realizing he must have been more out of it than he thought to miss that little bit of preparation.

“Nonsense,” he breathes against the back of Dick’s neck. “You’re not still worried about business, are you? Relax. It’d be rude to refuse a treat like this.”

Then Black Mask’s fingers are pressing in, two at once, and Dick’s mouth drops open to let out an uninhibited moan. There’s pressure, and a little pain, but Black Mask starts moving so quickly, so expertly, that Dick overlooks the discomfort.

_ —No. _ No, he can’t, there’s no way he can let this happen. Even with Black Mask’s slick fingers rubbing his prostate on every thrust, even though it’s been ages since he’s been fingered and he’s quickly remembering how good it feels, he can’t sit idly by and blow his cover for something like this. He tightens the grip that wavered on Black Mask’s wrist, holding as hard as he can to try and still his movements.

“S-safeword,” he breathes, taking a chance. “Safeword, I, uhm— forgot it, I… I need to… Roman,  _ please… _ ”

“Oh, did you, now?” Black Mask says, and god damn it, he still manages to thrust his fingers even with Dick’s hand on his wrist. Again, his grip wavers, and as soon as it does, Black Mask presses down against his prostate hard enough to turn his knees to jelly. “That’s such a shame. You want to know why you forgot it?”

“I… I…” Dick gapes, and curses himself for thinking even for a second that someone like Black Mask would give a damn about consent. “I don’t… I…”

Black Mask leans down, level with Dick’s ear, working his hand in little circles that drive Dick crazy. He lowers his voice until it’s barely more than a whisper, then says something that makes Dick’s blood run cold.

“...Because we never had one.”

The meaning behind those words seep into Dick’s bones like ice water, and were he in any other position, he’d have flipped away and grabbed for a weapon by now. But Black Mask doesn’t let up, not one bit, and when Dick tries to push himself up, he gets slammed back down hard enough to make his ears ring on the impact. Black Mask wrenches his hand away from his wrist and pins it to the small of his back, and his other hand works harder, punishing Dick with every thrust.

“Poor kid, it’s not your fault,” Black Mask says over a chorus of Dick’s half-muffled yelps. “Jason’s always been pretty tight-lipped about what he likes. Makes sense he wouldn’t tell you how much of a masochistic slut he is.”

Dick’s blood boils, and he tries to focus on pulling off an evasive maneuver, but Black Mask is stronger than he looks, and those fingers are doing Dick no favors. It’s hard to even focus on his own breathing, let alone the sort of complicated technique he’d have to do to get out of this without ripping himself wide open. The insistent press of Black Mask’s thumb against his balls doesn’t help matters much, either.

Still, he has his words. He snarls, glaring over his shoulder at Black Mask, and only wishes the hood were off so he could see the fire in his eyes. “Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about him like that.”

“Ah, but why not?  _ He _ certainly loved it,” Black Mask says, crooking his fingers inside Dick. Dick chews on his lips to stifle a moan, but the voice changer in the hood amplifies it anyway. “Yes, he sounded a little like that. Talked more, though. Loved begging his daddy for anything he could get.”

“You’re  _ disgusting, _ ” Dick growls. “How could you treat him like that? How could you treat  _ any— _ Ohh.”

“Well, you little bat-sluts make it easy.” Black Mask slides another finger in despite Dick clenching down around him, and it sends a bolt of electricity right up his spine. He throws his head back and yowls, but Black Mask just keeps talking like they’re discussing the weather. “You love to be treated like little fuck-holes, don’t you? And those daddy issues… Really makes me wonder what kind of training the Bat saddled you with.”

A pulse of something shameful mixed in with anger shoots through Dick’s body. “He  _ never. _ Ahh— H-he’d never…!  _ Nngh! _ ”

“Really?” Black Mask presses forward, and Dick can feel the hard length of his cock against his thigh. “Does that disappoint you? Is that why you and your precious little brother are so eager to give it up for a man who knows what you really need?”

“Don’t t-talk— about Jason,” Dick breathes, because it’s easier to address than any other part of that accusation.

“He started it, you know,” Black Mask continues. “Brought it up of his own free will. Perhaps if you and the Bat were more attentive to his needs, he wouldn’t have come running to me.”

“Doesn’t  _ need _ you—”

“Oh, but he does. He could have left whenever he wanted to. Could have gotten his rocks off with anyone else, once he figured out how much he craved it. But he came back to me.” He leans in and says, lowly, pointedly, “Every. Time.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dick says, and realizes with a sickening feeling that he’s rocking his hips back to meet Roman’s every thrust. “H-he— was doing it for a  _ reason, _ needed you to  _ trust _ him—”

“And I did,” Black Mask says. “Before he ever spread his legs for me.”

“Liar!”

“No,” he hums. “You just don’t want to admit it. Don’t want to think about your cute baby brother letting a criminal fuck his face, pound his tight little ass ‘til he cries—”

“Stop talking about him—”

“—because then it would make it that much harder for you to deny you want the same, wouldn’t it? Won’t be able to cry rape to your little hero friends if you cop to the fact that you’re just as much of a greedy slut as he is, that it?”

Dick clutches the edge of the table with his free hand, wonders why he isn’t using it to punch Black Mask in the throat. “N-no…”

“Mhm. I’m right. And I’m telling you, this will be a much more enriching experience for you if you just let yourself enjoy it.”

Dick opens his mouth to respond, but Black Mask swirls his fingers just right, and his protest dies on the wave of a moan.

“Or do you want it this way, me forcing you? Have you always dreamed about letting a criminal take you? Come in your tight little spandex just thinking about it?”

Dick hates that he has, hates that it makes the rest of Black Mask’s nonsense seem more legitimate. Because it was never like this in his fantasies, never so  _ real, _ something he can never take back, and god, he doesn’t want to have to wake up tomorrow and remember this really happened.

He thinks about Jason again, and all he must be going through. His moan tapers off into a growl.

“Stop now, Black Mask,” he says, “and we  _ might _ go easy on you before we dump you in Blackgate.”

“We? And who might ‘we’ be, pretty boy?” Black Mask asks. “The Batman, and…?”

“See for yourself.”

Black Mask frees his arm and lifts a hand to his hood. Dick had been intending to use the distraction to fight back, to get away, but Black Mask’s other hand is still three fingers deep, and he curls his pinky and thumb around Dick’s balls in an unfairly vice grip. He cries out, his legs refuse to move, and, before he knows it, the hood comes off, leaving him in nothing but his usual domino.

“Nightwing,” Black Mask says. He nods, almost as if he’s appraising Dick. “Figured as much. Nice to see you like this, though.”

He pins Dick’s arm again after an admittedly pathetic struggle, and lets his balls go to continue to fuck him with his fingers. Dick presses his cheek against the cool wood of the table and sucks in big lungfuls of fresh air, hoping they’ll steady him enough to fight back.

And he  _ will _ fight back. He swears he will.

“So,” Black Mask goes on, “now that we’ve figured out who you are, it’s time we got straight who  _ I _ am.”

“A… a dangerous psychopath with— no regard for boundaries?” Dick ventures, though he hates how his snappy comeback stutters on the edges of pleasure.

Black Mask leans down again, trapping Dick between his body and the table. He speaks in that low voice that Dick is beginning to hate.

“I was thinking something more like ‘daddy.’”

Dick tries to laugh, he really does. But those fingers quirk and the words break through his skull like a bullet, and he sighs out a moan before he can stop himself. It’s accompanied by a full-bodied shudder, and he feels 13 again, like some kid who only just figured out how good it feels to touch himself. A whole new experience is trying to force its way inside of him, and he’s unprepared, powerless to stop it.

“Ah, there it is,” Black Mask says, and rocks Dick’s body with a few deep, slow thrusts. “I felt that. Jason twitched the same way the first time. Hits hard, doesn’t it?”

“Stop, just  _ stop, _ ” Dick begs, feeling far too exposed with the hood off. Brow furrowed, shoulders tensed, he tries and fails to think of anything but the feel of Black Mask’s thick fingers fucking him. “I get it. You win, o-okay? You win. It feels good. Just  _ stop it _ already.”

“What feels good?” Black Mask asks, relentless. “Daddy fucking you like this? Tell me, pretty boy.”

“Oh my god,” Dick breathes, and tells himself to  _ fight, just fight. _ “Oh my god, don’t. Please don’t.”

“I thought you just said it feels good?”

It does, it  _ does, _ and Dick wants to come so bad, is so close that he could scream. Every second that he doesn’t flip Black Mask off of him and take him down sends another pang of guilt up his spine, but he can’t  _ move. _ He makes a frustrated noise halfway between a sob and a shout, and prays that he’s dreaming, that he isn’t really doing this.

“What? Still not ready to admit you like it? Okay, here’s an out,” Black Mask says. “Beg for daddy to make you come, and I’ll tell you when the shipment will arrive.”

“ _ Liar, _ ” Dick gasps, trying to ignore the way a feeling like relief floods his chest at the proposition. “Ch-change— You’ll change it—”

“But it’ll give you and your little family a place to start, won’t it?”

“I— I—”

“Or you could say nothing,” Black Mask says, “and I don’t even give you scraps. Your choice.”

Dick tells himself it’s as fair a deal as he could hope to get from a man like Black Mask. He tells himself no one would blame him for taking it. He squashes the little voice in his head that tells him that’s bullshit, and arches his back.

“... _ Daddy, _ ” he lets himself say, in earnest this time. “Daddy. Oh, my god. Oh my god, daddy, please let me come. Please,  _ please— _ ”

“There’s a good little slut.” Equal measures of hatred and love for the nickname flood Dick’s system, and he bucks back onto Black Mask’s fingers. “Always pegged you as the type. Uppity bitch, but then, all the pretty ones are.”

Dick grits his teeth and hates how true it sounds. Hates his beauty, not for the first time.

“The pretty ones always have problems, too,” Black Mask adds, and this time, Dick is able to summon up enough strength to scoff.

“ _ I’m _ the one with problems?”

“Judging by how tight you got when you called me ‘daddy,’” Black Mask says, “I’m gonna say ‘yeah.’ Now, let me hear it again.”

“I did what you asked—”

“And now I’m asking you to do it again.”

Dick just wants this to end already, so he says, “Please, daddy. Please, daddy, please, daddy, please,  _ daddy, _ please—”

By the end of it, he can feel himself get into it again, and he even hears Black Mask grunt a second before he feels him rut against his leg. He wonders what he’s going to do about that problem of his, and then figures he must have jinxed himself, because Black Mask pulls out his fingers a moment later.

He hears a zipper go down, and calls over his shoulder, “No, wait—”

“You really are selfish, aren’t you?” Black Mask tuts. “My arm is getting tired. Besides, daddy wants to come, too.”

“You can take care of that yourself!” Dick says through gritted teeth, tugging at Black Mask’s hold on him (not as hard as he could). “I didn’t agree to this, don’t you  _ dare— _ ”

Black Mask pulls a small tube of lubricant out of his breast pocket, uncapping it with his thumb. He presses his cockhead up to Dick’s ass, then squeezes the lube out over his cock and Dick’s hole.

“Say I had a gun to your head,” he says, and has the audacity to sound almost put-upon. “Tell them you had no choice. That mean old Black Mask fucked you while you cried and bled and begged him to stop.”

Dick squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to dismiss the unwelcome, intoxicating images in his head. “I  _ am _ begging you to stop.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Black Mask says, and lets go of his arm to steady both his hands on Dick’s hips. “Be a pretty little damsel and scream for me, won’t you?”

When Black Mask presses in, Dick sobs and moans and whines, but he doesn’t scream.

Black Mask fucks like he fingers, hard and fast, and he’s thick, thicker than anything Dick’s had inside him in a while. It  _ hurts, _ but in a way that sets his nerves alight and kicks his adrenaline up to eleven. It’s the same kind of exhilarating not-really-pain he feels when he’s in the thick of battle, too hopped up on the thrill of it all to feel much more than a passing ache.

He watches his own fingers claw at the table, dully aware that both hands are free now. He knows he could throw Black Mask off at any time, and the realization that he doesn’t  _ want _ to draws another agonized sob out of his throat.

“Poor little baby,” Black Mask coos, sickly-sweet. “What is it you want, hmm?”

“Come,” he admits in a breathless whisper. “Make me come. Make me come, daddy, I-I’m— so  _ close— _ ”

“What are you?”

“ _ Slut. _ ” Dick lifts himself up just to arch his back, wishes he was in spandex so he could show off his curves better. “Whore. Your whore, daddy’s whore…”

“Attention whore, right?” Black Mask goads. “Love it when older men stare, I bet. That why you wear that tight little outfit?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, even though it isn’t true. He’s too far gone now, too encased in this fantasy-turned-reality to control himself. He lets the words slip out, certain he’d sink into a puddle of his own embarrassment if he thought them through beforehand. “Like it, daddy? ‘M I cute? Daddy’s, hahh, cute little baby...?”

“You bet you are,” Black Mask growls, dangerous now. Dick loves it. He loves it even more when Black Mask grabs his still-stinging ass and spreads him open carelessly. “Wanted to fuck this ass of yours for a long time, bat-brat. Fuck the tease right out of you.”

_ That’s what they all say, _ Dick thinks, but he’s smiling despite himself. Wanted, used, degraded, he wants it all, and in the throes of passion, it all comes bubbling out in one big, disgusting heap.

“Daddy daddy  _ please _ fuck me, want your cock  _ oh _ daddy oh my  _ god, _ yes, yes,  _ yes…! _ ”

“You sound like a porn star,” Black Mask grunts in his ear, reaching around to jerk Dick off. “Look like one, too. Bat really lucked out with you two.”

Dick doesn’t want to, but he thinks about Jason, about Bruce. In one final act of lust-addled mania, his brain floods him with images of the two of them fucking him, holding him, kissing him, touching him. He lets out a scream so loud it echoes off the walls, and comes harder than he ever has in his life.

Black Mask finishes moments later, muttering curses into the crook of his shoulder. It draws out Dick’s orgasm in a way he didn’t think was possible, and leaves him boneless and spent, sinking down toward the floor.

“That was good,” Black Mask says after a while, and Dick blinks up in time to see him finish wiping his hands on a cloth napkin before tossing it down onto him. “If you ever want a repeat performance, come knocking, sweet cheeks.”

Dick fights to speak against the rising wave of bile in his throat. “Shipment. When. Where.”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks Roman’s grinning under that mask.

“Of course.”

Dick commits the info to memory and vows never to think about tonight ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these boys............. are messed up

“Here comes the hero.”

Dick, barely an hour removed from what happened between himself and Roman, doesn't even notice Jason lingering in the hallway until he speaks up. He looks up to see him standing with his arms crossed against his chest, face contorted in disdain, eyes red-rimmed like he's been crying.

Dick's shoulders slump. After everything that's happened tonight, the last thing he wants to do is figure out how to deal with Jason.

He takes too long to answer, so Jason breaks the silence for him. “Bet you got it, didn't you? Bet you waltzed right in there and found out in ten seconds what the family failure couldn't in months.”

“Jason,” Dick starts, all at once tired and hurt and angry and full of guilt.

“ _Jason, don't whine,_ ” Jason says in a mocking tone. “ _Jason, I'm just better at this. Jason, I'm more experienced. Jason, I'm not a_ fucking freak like _you_ —”

He loses it near the end, slipping back into his normal tone, and Dick can see how torn up he's been about this whole thing. He probably shouldn't blame him; Bruce's cease and desist order had been pretty brutal. It was how he got when he was scared and didn't know how to protect his kids, but that didn't make it right. Hell, it was why Dick had quit being Robin in the first place, that my-way-or-the-highway attitude of his.

But right now, he doesn't want to hear it, no matter how much he sympathizes. Because how can he explain that, yeah, he'd done something in the first night that Jason hadn't for weeks — spread his legs like the slut everyone says he is?

“Just save it, okay?” His words come out harsher than he intended, and he tries not to glare at Jason when he shoves past him. But a hand catches his wrist — that same wrist Black Mask had pinned behind his back — and he stills abruptly.

“Say it,” Jason says, voice thick with impending tears. “Admit it. I'm useless, aren't I? All I was ever good for was being a supervillain's fuck-toy, and now I can't even do _that._ ”

It almost sounds like Jason wants to go back, and Dick wants to feel sorry for him. He knows how much the kid's been through, can only imagine how screwed up in the head he is after being with someone like Roman for months, but right now, in the wake of everything, he can't muster up his usual empathy. He spins around and shoves Jason, far too satisfied with the sound he makes when his back cracks up against the nearby door frame.

“Go back if you love it so much!” he says. He can feel his filter dissipating in the way it often does when he gets angry, knows he should turn and walk away, but he can't stop himself. He'll never admit it, but sometimes he _wants_ to be cruel. “He misses you, you know? You should've seen how _happy_ he was to get his hands all over 'you.'”

Jason seems to shrink against the door frame, eyes wide and arms pinned by his sides, looking impossibly small. Dick wonders if this is how Roman saw him for so many months. Feels, against his better judgment, a pang of understanding for how empowering it is to shut someone like Jason up.

“You...” Jason struggles for the words, staring down at his own symbol proudly emblazoned across Dick's chest. He looks back up into his eyes, brow furrowed. “You... He...?”

Dick smirks, but it's a cold, ugly thing. He steers Jason by his shoulders back into his room and closes the door behind them.

“Boy, you two really went all-in on the 'daddy' stuff, didn't you?” he says, tone jovial in an obviously fake way. He crowds Jason up against the wall, batting his eyelashes, smiling oh-so-sweetly. “'Be good for daddy. Let daddy touch you. Let daddy _punish_ you...'”

He feels an acidic churning in his stomach, but he isn't sure if it's from the memories or from the pained way Jason is looking at him. He knows it's not fair, but he thinks, _good, this is_ your _fault,_ anyway.

All the while, he guides Jason's shaking hands down his body, still covered in armor and padding to make the two of them seem as similar as possible. It isn't until he tries to force one down the back of his pants that Jason speaks up.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and the tone of his voice reminds Dick that this is very messed up. That, for better or for worse, they're _brothers,_ and here he is, pressed bodily up against Jason, very nearly kissing him.

He decides in the moment that he doesn't care. His smile vanishes, and he manages to squeeze Jason's hand down, forcing his fingers between his cheeks.

Jason's eyes widen. He feels around on his own, and Dick can feel Roman's cum smear across his hole where it's been dripping since he left.

“...You did,” Jason says, his own expression fading into something unreadable. Were Dick in a better headspace, he'd recognize the danger, but he isn't, and he doesn't.

“Daddy fucked me,” he mutters against Jason's lips, “and I _loved_ it.”

He doesn't know why, but he kisses him then. Jason barely moves, but Dick does, passionate as if they've been lovers for years. He begins to tremble himself at the memory of being bent over Roman's dining room table. He licks into Jason's mouth like the taste will erase the whole incident, like he can replace it with something just a little less scandalous, but he knows in his heart that all he's doing is creating an even worse mess.

When Jason does move, it's all at once, fast enough that Dick can't stop him. He pulls his hand out of his pants, shoves him back, and then punches him hard across the face.

“You _fucking_ slut!” he shouts, so loud that Dick worries for a moment that Alfred might burst in and see them like this. That hurts almost more than the way Jason manhandles him, shaking him by the collar. “I can't believe you! He trusts you more, but you do the _same goddamn thing!_ What did I ever do, huh? Why doesn't he love me like you?”

Dick realizes with sinking clarity that they're talking about Bruce now. They don't do it often, for precisely this reason: the upset it causes is raw and unbearable, and there's never a solution to be found.

Jason keeps yelling, forcing him back step by step.

“Why do you always have to do this?! Isn't it enough B loves you most? That _everyone_ loves you more?” Tears spill hot and wet down Jason's cheeks, his face all twisted up with blind rage. His voice heightens in pitch just a bit in his hysteria. “You have to take _this_ from me, too?! Th-the— The _one_ thing in my whole life that was just _mine,_ and you swoop in and ruin it for me just like everything else!”

Okay, so maybe they're not just talking about Bruce.

They still with the backs of Dick's knees up against the bed, and in the silence, everything sinks in. Jason's emotional investment in this case; his secrecy when it came to relaying details to anyone; the way he looks right now, more like a scorned lover than a victim.

“You like him,” Dick says incredulously. “You really do like him.”

Jason's nose wrinkles up, hands tightening on Dick's shirt. “No, I— I don't— Augh, see, you don't _understand!_ ”

With one harsh shove, Dick finds himself lying back on the bed. He doesn't have a chance to right himself before Jason is on top of him, yanking at his clothes, scratching at his skin.

“It's not about 'like' or 'love,'” Jason says, tugging Dick's pants — _his_ pants — down his legs. Dick's too stunned to resist. “It's about 'need.' What would _you_ know about needing anything, you idiot? You _always_ get _everything._ ”

Dick wants to protest, to tell Jason he has no fucking idea about his life, and really must be young and inexperienced if that's his perspective, but right now, Jason's anger eclipses his own.

“Bet you can just walk away,” he scoffs. “Bet this is just another one-night-stand for you. 'Cuz you could get anyone to do anything for you, looking like you do. You don't know what it's _like_ when only _one person_ understands you!”

“Jason, that's not—”

Jason backhands him. He feels his oppressive weight on top of him, bulk he can't hope to match with padding and armor, and then Jason's fingers are inside of him, spreading around what's left of Roman's cum. Dick tenses, but his cock begins to rise despite it all.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason breathes against his ear, pumping his fingers in and out. “This should've been mine. I should've been punished. I still _wanna be_ punished, god _fucking_ damn it...!”

The half-sob in Jason's tone nearly breaks Dick's heart. At the same time, he wants to shout. Wants to tell Jason just how many conclusions he jumped to, how he never even bothered to _ask_ if Dick actually wanted to fuck his precious Dom in the first place. Because a good-looking slut like him can't get raped, can he?

With clenched teeth, he grabs Jason by the wrist, stilling his movements. Jason seems to sink against him, and he feels a few more tears splashed up against his skin where Jason ripped clothes and padding away, hears a couple of tiny, muffled sobs.

“...Then I'll punish you,” he says.

Jason looks up at him, confused, but Dick doesn't give him time to react. He yanks Jason up by his collar, slamming him down so hard that his head briefly strikes the headboard, and he bounces when he lands.

“Dick, what—”

“Shut up.”

Shuddering, he draws himself up, telling himself, _this is wrong,_ but they passed wrong ages ago, didn't they? He straddles Jason's stunned face, one hand braced up against the headboard, the other tangling in Jason's hair.

“You want 'daddy's' cum so much?” he says, not bothering to hide his disdain (with himself or with Jason, though, he's not sure). “Stop whining and take it.”

Jason opens and closes his mouth like a fish, unblinking eyes locked on Dick's face. For a moment, Dick wonders if this is going too far, but then he feels the slick slide of Jason's tongue over his hole, and he puts his whole body behind the force of the resulting groan.

Jason groans, too, like a dying man being granted salvation. He grabs Dick's ass and holds him open with enough force to bruise. He still aches from being taken so roughly earlier in the night, but Jason's tongue is so soft and wet that it soothes him, first outside, then in. And, _god,_ that feels so fucking good, Jason's tongue writhing around inside of him.

“Oh,” Dick gasps, licking his lips. “Oh— Oh yeah... Get it all, there you go...”

This isn't the type of encouragement he should be giving to Jason. He should help him out, give him direction, but not like _this._ And Jason thinks _he's_ the fuck-up of the family? Dick's older, he should have more self-control, he shouldn't be moaning like this because of his— his—

“ _Little brother._ Yeah,” he groans, moving his hips in little circles over Jason's face. Jason must feel how he twitches and clenches when he says it, has to know now that they're two sides of the same dysfunctional coin. “Yeah, little bro, _oh_ god, eat big bro's asshole for him, _ah,_ you're doing so good...”

He thinks, vaguely, that this doesn't sound like much of a punishment. But he hears Jason's muffled cries of pleasure and the slick slapping sound of him beating himself off, so he figures he must not be too unhappy.

He wraps a hand around his own length, dripping with precum. He bites his lip, briefly overwhelmed with images of riding Jason until he passes out, but no, he can't let himself go that far. They have to keep this about Roman, about his cum dripping warm and sticky out of Dick's hole. If they make it any more about the two of them, then how will they ever have a chance of putting any of this behind them?

It's stupid logic, he knows, and logic he'd do anything to disregard just to feel Jason's cock inside him, but Dick grips the headboard to keep himself steady.

“Eat it,” he breathes, all at once thinking of Roman and hating that he is. “Get all daddy's cum out of big bro's ass. You like daddy's cum, huh? Good boy, good boy, _ah—_ ”

He feels Jason arch up underneath himself, feels the flare of his nostrils and hot, heavy breaths against his skin. Tongue still deep inside Dick, Jason moans, panting through wave after wave of what must be his orgasm. Dick wishes he could look back to watch, but he settles for staring at Jason's furrowed brow and the deep red tips of his ears instead.

Jason's head, between his legs.

 _Oh,_ god.

Jason re-positions his hands, one of them now sticky with his cum. He spreads Dick open as much as possible, re-doubling his efforts to fuck him with his tongue, and Dick's head lulls back, everything muffled like his ears are full of cotton.

“So good, you're so good,” he breathes, pumping his cock faster and faster. “C'mon, baby brother, good boy, good— _boy—_ Ungh...!”

He stills, letting Jason tonguefuck him through his orgasm. Hot, thick spurts of cum splatter against the headboard and drip in Jason's hair, and, Jesus Christ, Dick doesn't think he's ever seen a better-looking sight.

They stay in that position for a long time, Dick carding his fingers through the clean parts of Jason's hair, Jason panting wetly against Dick's inner thigh.

Tomorrow, they're gonna have to deal with this.

But tomorrow can wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the first and only fic posted in this pairing tag
> 
> if you ended this by thinking "wow I kinda ship it now," that's me ruining your life, I don't regret it and I'm not sorry
> 
> #urwelcome


End file.
